


The Trouble That Makes Rebels

by estelraca



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Fighting Fascism Interferes With Love Lives, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:55:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22688095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/estelraca/pseuds/estelraca
Summary: When Cassian's latest mission doesn't go quite the way it's supposed to, Bodhi and Jyn disobey orders to go rescue him.  After all, being rebels means doing what's right, even if everyone else tells you it's dumb.
Relationships: Cassian Andor & Davits Draven, Cassian Andor/Jyn Erso/Bodhi Rook
Comments: 3
Kudos: 36
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 5





	The Trouble That Makes Rebels

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Guinevak](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Guinevak/gifts).



> I adore this movie and this crew so very, very much. This isn't as long as I had hoped it would be, since I picked it up as a pinch hit, but I hope that you enjoy it anyway. Imagining how these three would work together and work off each other in a universe where they survived is one of the things I absolutely adore doing.

_The Trouble That Makes Rebels_

His team is going to kill him.

It's Cassian's first muzzy thought as consciousness returns.

He was made, and he was captured, and if he survives long enough his team is going to kill him for this.

Given that the _survives long enough_ is a big _if_ right how, he supposes he should focus more on that and less on the looks that Bodhi and Jyn are going to give him when they see each other again.

“With us again, spy?”

The Imperial lieutenant looks down at Cassian with clear disdain. Given that it wasn't even him who noticed Cassian—it was a stormtrooper, but Cassian can't tell if it was one of the ones holding him or not—Cassian thinks the haughty attitude is a bit ridiculous. That's the Empire, though—ridiculous when they're not being horrifying or cruel. Sometimes all three at once, really.

How hard had he come up against the Star Destroyer's wall for his thoughts to be this jumbled and disjointed? The others are _really_ going to hate it if he's got a concussion or something like that.

The stormtroopers lob his limp body into a small, cramped cell, and Cassian manages to half-roll. It's not pretty, but at least it keeps his head from striking the ground _too_ hard and adding more injuries atop whatever's already broken.

“We have a rendezvous to make. We'll deal with you when we have the commander aboard.” The lieutenant sniffs before allowing the door to cycle shut, trapping Cassian in a sea of white-and-grey metal.

Cassian allows his head to fall gently back against the floor. As long as he wasn't unconscious for long—and given the circumstances he doubts he was out for more than five minutes—that means he has four hours before the rendezvous.

Four hours before he's supposed to be meeting up with Bodhi and Jyn.

Four hours to try to get himself out of here, before they bring in proper interrogators and drugs and other things he can't afford to let himself be subjected to. As Fulcrum he knows too much.

That means he has four hours to escape, because if he has to kill himself to avoid interrogation, the others are _really_ never going to let him live it down.

* * *

“Cassian is going to kill us.”

“No, he's not.” Jyn scowls at the door that is _supposed_ to be opening now. Soon. _Hopefully_ opening, because if K-2 isn't able to get them access to the part of the ship where Cassian is supposedly being held captive—

The door finally opens with a quiet, satisfied hiss, and Jyn walks through, head high, heart beating too hard in her chest but hopefully not showing in her eyes.

Bodhi walks behind her, in an Imperial pilot's uniform that reminds her too much of how he looked when she first met him. His steps are faster than hers, more nervous, less sure and steady.

He's still not used to field work like this. He shouldn't be _doing_ field work like this, but it's her and him and K-2 currently standing between Cassian and death, and Jyn knows better than to underestimate Bodhi. If he needs to do something, he gets it done.

Saving the third member of their triad is something that they both agreed needed to be done. Reaching a consensus hadn't taken more than two minutes of conversation after they intercepted the coded message saying a spy had been uncovered aboard the Imperial star destroyer—a spy who matches Cassian's description too closely for it to be coincidence.

It was supposed to be a simple mission, for all intents and purposes. Cassian would be aboard the Star Destroyer for less than two weeks. He would use those two weeks and one of his cover personas to get information on where the Empire is currently looking for the Rebellion. The Rebellion would use that information to _not be there_. Jyn and Bodhi would pick Cassian up and take him home, where they would spend a glorious few days together before one or all of them was needed for another mission.

Nothing ever seems to go right for them.

“I really do think he's going to try to kill us for this one. Walking right in, only the barest scraps of cover—” Bodhi smiles at a woman further ahead in the corridor who is wearing a flight suit similar to his. She waves back, smiling, and the three of them cross paths without any incident.

Jyn would have scowled her way past. Bodhi's option is probably the smarter one, and Jyn gestures for him to walk beside her instead of behind her. “If we _don't_ do something—”

“I know.”

They both do. Jyn can see it in the grim set of Bodhi's jaw as he grinds his teeth together. Cassian had made no secret of how long he expected to survive as one of the Rebellion's top spies when they all started trying to make this relationship work. _Any_ Rebels' life expectancy is far, far lower than it should be, but the spies—the ones who know too much... well. Cassian will do whatever it takes to keep from sacrificing others, especially after Scarif.

Scarif. It always, always comes back to Scarif, to what they saved and what they lost and what changed in _them_ that day. Cassian is no longer the man who trained a blaster on Jyn's father because it was what the rebellion commanded him to do.

For as long as there is a war on Cassian will be a man living day to day on the wrong end of a blaster's sight. Just as Jyn is. Just as Bodhi is.

But sometimes, when he's behind enemy lines, the one holding the blaster barrel to his temple is Cassian himself.

“We should be getting close.” Jyn's hand automatically moves to the blaster strapped to her side. Bodhi has been practicing, and is a better shot than he was, but she is still the faster, more accurate marksman out of them.

Bodhi nods, moving so that he provides some cover for her loosening of her blaster in its holster. If there are guards outside Cassian's door—

Then the final door is swishing open, their target in sight. Jyn yanks her blaster free of its holster... and pauses, blinking at the sight before her.

Cassian isn't in his cell anymore. The cell door stands open, and of the two stormtroopers who had been stationed outside it only one is still standing.

Jyn fixes that with one well-placed blaster bolt.

Cassian watches his foe fall with a look of absolute bewilderment on his face. His black hair is slick with liquid on the right side of his head—liquid that resolves itself into blood in all the red and brown stages of drying as it continues down his neck and soaks into the fabric of his torn uniform. His right eye is bloodshot, and he seems unsteady on his feet.

Bodhi darts the short distance from Jyn to Cassian's side, leaving Jyn to cover them if the battle has attracted more attention that they don't want.

Cassian finally manages to get his eyes to focus on Bodhi's face. “Are you here to kill me?”

Jyn opens her mouth to snap out a reply.

Bodhi leaning forward to give Cassian a quick kiss on the lips stops the words in her throat.

“Only if you deserve it.” Bodhi smiles as he breaks away from the kiss—and jabs some kind of medication into Cassian's neck with the motion.

Cassian winces, raising a hand to the place Bodhi stuck him. Whatever Bodhi gave him seems to help, though, the first aid that Bodhi has made it his mission to learn coming in handy. Cassian's Basic is clearer, his eyes more focused as he looks from Bodhi to Jyn. “I don't think I do, yet. Though you two—we'll talk about this later. You have an escape route?”

Jyn raises her lapel and the communicator hastily sewn there. “K-2?”

“Route Orange.” The droid's response is swift. “I would say you have about four minutes before someone notices what I'm doing and things start exploding. All of you had best be out of there before that happens.”

Jyn can't help grinning a bit. Scarif did a lot of things to all of them, but one thing she'll never regret is how it made Rogue One a unit that takes care of its own. “We'll be there.”

Cassian is busy shoving a data chip into an inside pocket of Bodhi's flight suit. He doesn't say anything, just puts his hand over the data chip and stares into Bodhi's eyes.

Bodhi leans forward to kiss Cassian's nose gently and then drapes a thin towel over Cassian's head and shoulders, hiding the worst of the blood and giving at least a semblance of cover.

“Come on.” Jyn reaches out to take Cassian's hand, just for a moment. Their fingers twine together, a feeling she will never, ever get tired of, and she tugs him towards their designated escape route.

She has to let him go after a minute or so, not wanting to draw more attention to them than absolutely necessary, but the lingering feel of his warmth against her fingers is all the reassurance she needs to keep her head high as she leads them out of danger.

* * *

“Your team is crazy.”

Cassian opens his mouth, closes it, and then just stares at his commander, maintaining a comfortable parade rest as he does.

Draven sighs, leaning back in his chair. “They disobeyed orders. Again.”

“They're rebels, sir.”

The look Draven sends him causes Cassian to wipe the tiny smile that had been on his mouth away.

After a few seconds Draven shakes his head. “The information you got is going to save lives.”

“I know. That's why I do the job.” Cassian doesn't meet his commander's eyes, not trusting himself not to smile again.

“And you're damn good at it.” Draven's voice is a growl, though it softens as he continues. “And I'm glad to still have you to do it.” Draven sighs, rubbing at his forehead with one hand. “Talk to them, please. Tell them to at least _try_ to look like they're following orders, even if they intend to flagrantly disobey them at the first opportunity. And tell them... good job today. It's not everyone who can think on their feet like they did.”

“We've learned from the best.” Cassian raises his hand to salute. “And we'll use those skills the best we can to help the rebellion succeed.”

“I know.” Draven studies Cassian for five long, long seconds. “You're off duty for at least the next five days, until medical says the concussion's healed. Enjoy your time off. Dismissed, Andor.”

It's more time than they sometimes have, less than Cassian knows the others will want. Cassian salutes again, resisting the urge to thank Draven for the consideration. He's not sure Draven would appreciate the thanks, and things have been... different between them since Scarif.

Cassian doesn't even know if it's different in a _bad_ way, just that it's _different_. Draven knows that Cassian is not the perfect soldier—that Cassian is not the perfect rebel, fulfilling commands and following orders, all for the greater good. And Cassian knows that for all that Draven means well, he can make mistakes—he can get so caught up in the reasons that they're paying such high prices that he loses track of exactly how high those prices are.

They're getting a feel for these new versions of each other. Cassian thinks they might actually like each other _more_ now than they did before. But it's still something they're both adjusting to, and Cassian doesn't want to push any boundaries harder than they need to be pushed.

Especially not when he has a team to go talk to.

When he pushes open the door to the broom closet that is currently serving as Rogue One's quarters on base, he finds Jyn and Bodhi busy trying to see who can last the longest without breathing while they kiss. For a moment he just watches, enjoying the show, and then he clears his throat.

It's not necessary. The room is small enough that the door opening informed his team that he's back. By the time he makes any noise they're already breaking apart, reaching for him to pull him into their embrace.

Cassian goes to them willingly. This mission hadn't taken all that long, not really, but it's still glorious to fall into their arms. It's wonderful to have Jyn's fingers tangled in his, and to have Bodhi's lips pressing against him, and to just sink into the warmth of his team as he allows them to drag him down onto the cot and snuggle up against him.

Bodhi is the one who breaks the silence, leaning up on an elbow and studying Cassian. “How angry was Draven about what we did?”

“Angry you disobeyed orders. I'm supposed to tell you not to do that, that even as rebels we need to have some semblance of a chain of command.” Cassian kisses Jyn's nose to stop her from cutting in before he's finished. “Also glad that you got me back alive. He prefers me alive to dead.”

“How very rational of him.” Bodhi's words are cold and clipped, his eyes hard as his hands clutch tight to Cassian.

Cassian runs his fingers through Bodhi's hair. “You don't get to be where Draven is by being kind. He's as careful with his spies as he can be, but—”

Jyn bites one of Cassian's fingers, bringing him up short. “But it's a dangerous job and someone has to do it, and that someone might as well be you.”

“Well...” Cassian shrugs, not certain what Jyn wants him to say—not certain if there is _anything_ he could say, because it's not him that Jyn's angry at. It's not even the rebellion, and only in the broadest sense is it the Empire. Jyn hates the necessity of sacrifice, even as she has come to understand it. Some wounds acquired young cut too deeply to ever heal, something Cassian understands intimately. “Yes.”

“How's your head?” Bodhi's hand cups the side of Cassian's face, his fingers more calloused now than they had been when Cassian first met him—not just a pilot's hands, but a fighter's hands, showing on the outside what Bodhi has always been on the inside.

“Better. It doesn't hurt much unless I'm bending over or getting my heart rate up.”

Bodhi lifts Cassian's right hand towards his mouth, his lips touching gently at the soft skin of Cassian's wrist. “Pity.”

Jyn mirrors Bodhi on Cassian's other arm. “Indeed.”

Cassian manages to stop a small groan, and then allows himself to vocalize it. There's no reason not to, not right now, not right here.

Bodhi and Jyn share a fond smile, and then both of them release him, instead lying down to press their bodies against him.

Jyn breaks the silence this time. “How long do we have?”

“I'm on medical leave for five days. Assuming neither of you is needed, and that the entire base isn't mobilized for one reason or another...” Cassian turns to kiss first Jyn and then Bodhi.

“Five days.” Bodhi burrows in closer, and Cassian puts an arm around him, somehow feeling like he can breathe just a little bit easier with the closer contact. “That's not bad.”

“Don't you dare say that.” Jyn is tauter, not quite settling down with the rest of them, staying up on one elbow to toy with Cassian's hair and draw nonsense syllables on his chest. “Saying stuff like that is the best way to end up with all of us having to go do something stupid.”

Bodhi gives his head a minute shake. “We just got done doing something stupid. We're obligated to take a few days off before doing it again.”

Cassian laughs, surprising both of his lovers. “Not in this Rebellion, you aren't.”

Jyn smiles wide, and after a moment Bodhi does too.

Five days or five minutes. It doesn't really matter, in the end. They're together. They're alive, when none of them had any right to survive Scarif, let along what came after.

They have their mission, and they have their purpose, and they have the feel of each other's fingers twined together. It's really all anyone could ask for in order to keep carrying on.


End file.
